Page 52 of River & Rue

I come up for air a few feet away and maneuver onto the bench, then recline with a sigh.

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

His low voice plucks at the base of my spine. When I turn my head, there’s another, sharper pluck. He’s much closer than I thought, looking down at me with shadowed eyes.

Abruptly aware of being splayed out like a starfish under harsh pool lights, I straighten and draw up my knees. Not because I’m ashamed of my soft belly or the faint stretch marks on my thighs—because River’s stare makes me feel like I’m not even wearing a bathing suit.

“Forgive you for what? Pushing me into your parents’ pool?”

A faint smile curves his lips as he shakes his head. “You couldn’t pay me to regret that.”

I use annoyance as an excuse to face him, accidentally on purpose putting a few more inches between us as I rotate.

“For what, then? When you hid my phone for an entire weekend while I was waiting for a job offer? Or how about the time I tried to make pancakes for your family, and you switched the jars of flour and cornstarch?”

He grins. “That was a good one.”

"Supergluing my shoelaces? The water balloon fight on the Fourth of July when you got all the kids to gang up on me with buckets and the hose? Never buying me a Christmas present?”

He swipes a hand down his face, his shoulders shaking. I barely hold onto my stern expression.

“Need more examples? I have them.”

Laughing eyes lift to mine. “I actually mellowed in my twenties. Ivy and Olive had it a lot worse.”

“Oh, I know.”

“And to be fair, your so-called Christmas presents are reliably insulting.”

“I think you mean reliably brilliant. Besides, I only started that tradition after two years of trying to be nice and buying you thoughtful gifts. You put them back under the tree before you left for the airport.”

He sobers fast. “That was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

My smile is saccharine. “I’ll forgive you… if you get me something this year. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but there’d better be a card.”

“Deal.” His eyes scan mine, and his chest moves on a quick inhale. “There’s something else I⁠—”

A feminine laugh and low male voices cut him off, drawing our attention across the pool as three figures emerge from the path between hedges. They move like a single organism with many limbs, pausing every few feet to grope each other.

I can’t see the woman, sandwiched as she is between two bigger bodies, but I think one of the men is Matteo. My suspicion is confirmed when I recognize his laugh. It stops abruptly, replaced by sloppy kissing sounds and moans. A masculine hand snakes around Matteo’s back and slips into his shorts.

My body temperature skyrockets. I’m hyperaware of River beside me. Breathing. Existing. Having arms and legs.

“Say something,” I hiss. “So they know we’re here.”

“Why? I guarantee they don’t care.” He pauses for a theatrical gasp. “Oh. Does this make you uncomfortable?”

I direct a withering glare his way and lie through my teeth.

“Not at all.”

His smile spreads with menacing slowness. “Then I wonder what’s turning your cheeks so pink. Is it the voyeurism? Or have you never played with two cocks before?”

My breath catches. The word cock has never sounded so appealing. Rough and masculine but elevated. Like jazz hands with calluses.

If my cheeks were pink before, now they’re crimson. I’m so hot my scalp itches. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me my eyeballs were steaming.

“I take it back. You’re not forgiven and never will be. For anything.”